by Jennie Absolutely, irrevocably fucking pathetic.
I'd been pacing out on the street in front of his place for hours. Well,
okay, I suppose it was more like one hour—but it sure as hell seemed like
more.
To go in or not to go in?
That was the question.
And people say I have no sense of humor.
Would he beat me up again? Shoot me—thereby putting out of my misery? Cut
me to shreds with that razor sharp tongue of his? What? Did I even care?
No, I didn't. Just seeing him again, healthy, awake and aware, was easily
worth the risk of any bodily harm he might choose to inflict upon me.
Oh hell, who am I kidding? Any attention from him—good or bad—would be
better than none.
As I may have mentioned previously... pathetic.
Gathering my resolve, I straightened my shoulders and crossed the street.
Dammit, I would face him... now. It was far past time for this.
Standing in front of his door, I hesitated once again. Panic was all too
close to the surface.
//Dammit, Alex, you're a cold-blooded assassin, for god's sake. A killer.
A spy. You've faced far worse than this. Many times. Knock on the fucking
door already!//
Yeah, right. Like I was gonna listen to a pathetic specimen such as myself.
Ashamed, yet too afraid actually to knock, I gave in to my weak-kneed fears
and uncertainties and turned away. God, I'm a sorry bastard.
I knew he was out there from the beginning. Don't ask me how. Drawn to the
window for unknown reasons, I'd looked down to see my very own rat bastard.
He stood, forlorn, on the sidewalk across from my building.
//My very own rat bastard?//
What the hell?
Since my return I'd noticed a slight change in my perceptions of those who'd
had an impact on my life—Scully, Skinner... and now, Alex.
//Fuck! Exactly when had he become 'Alex'?//
Yeah, I'd wanted him—back when we were partners and I'd actually bought
his young-eager-green-Mulder-adoring-agent routine. Then, hating him became
such a large part of my life that I buried that embarrassing weakness on my
part beneath layers of frozen anger.
Buried it deeply.
And now, here I was at my window, watching him... calling him 'Alex'. What
the hell had happened to me? What had been done to my mind during my
recent, um, sojourn with the aliens?
Then, he crossed the street and disappeared. I watched for him to appear
further up the sidewalk. Not a trace of him. It seemed he was on his way
up here.
Fuck.
I wasn't ready. Needed more time to examine this whole thing.
I'd ignore him. That was it. Pretend to be asleep, or not home, or
something. Anything but deal with these new and disturbing feelings.
//Face it Fox, old man, the feelings aren't new—you've just been hiding
from them.//
::Fuck you::
//Yeah, tell yourself that—argue. But, I know the truth//
::Shut the hell up.::
Great—now I was arguing with myself. In full fucking sentences.
Spooky Mulder, that's me.
Crazier than ever.
No knock. Just that presence outside in the hall. I could feel him out
there.
I waited.
And waited.
Still nothing.
Finally, unable to contain my curiosity, I crossed to the door and peeked
out through the spyhole.
He was there all right. And with such a look on his face—doubt,
hesitation, need, pain, longing... Damn. I opened the door only to find him
in the act of retreat. He spun back and, shocked, he stared at me
wide-eyed. Thought he was gonna cut. Then, he squared his shoulders and
nodded hesitantly at me.
"Mulder," he offered in a husky voice.
That, it seemed was all he had to say. I waited for more, hoping in vain
for a hint. His eyes darted to my feet, to the wall, to the doorjamb, to
the room behind me—and, he just stood there. Waiting too. For what, I
had no idea.
I cleared my throat. "Alex."
That brought his eyes flying up to meet mine in stunned disbelief. "Alex?"
He repeated in a near whisper. "You... you called me Alex."
"Yeah, I did."
And, damned if he didn't just throw himself at me, wrapping his arm firmly
around my neck and pressing his trembling body against me.
Frozen with shock, I just stood there. Then, lord only knows why, I found
my own arms closing around him. I pulled him near and buried my face in his
neck.
Although I fully expected to find myself plastered, rather violently,
against the far wall for my temerity, he pulled me close and returned my
embrace. Much to my shame, I found myself shaking in reaction. This was so
much more than I'd hoped for.
So very much more.
Tears threatened. No, I'm not kidding—nor am I exaggerating. I actually
found myself on the verge of crying.
//Dammit, Alex—you don't cry. You never cry. Control yourself, fool//
"Alex," he whispered in one ear, "are you okay?"
Oh, Fuck! Did he have to sound so... concerned?
Never mind me... What was wrong with him?
"I'm fine, Mulder," I said haltingly. "I just wanted to check on you—make
sure you were okay."
I felt him shrug. "Getting there, Alex. Getting there slowly."
Oh man—Alex, Alex, Alex. Why was he calling me that? Hadn't done so
since... //Do not go there, Krycek. Just don't//
He backed up a step. Arms still around me, he pulled me along with him.
"Mulder?"
Raising his head, he met my eyes. "Hush, Alex. Just going inside. Don't
want to give my neighbors a free show, do we?"
//Huh?//
A show? My mind went blank and all I could do was blindly follow his lead.
Whatever he wanted, I realized with a sinking stomach, was what I wanted.
Okay, so now I had him in my apartment. What the hell was I going to do
with him? What did I want to do with him?
//Shit, Foxy, you know damned well what you want. Go on, admit it—you
want him//
::Yeah, yeah... so I want him. The question is, how much do I want?
And, how? Do I want to do this to him, or with him?::
//Huh. Don't fool yourself. You know perfectly well.//
Shit.
Yeah, I did know. I knew all too well. And, apparently, he wanted me
too. His urgent clinging told me that. Showed me, in fact.
But why? What had brought about this sudden and disconcerting need for me?
Why was he so... so desperate? Why was he so damned needy, so open in his
desire?
I had a bad feeling about this. Something drastic must have happened in his
life. Something catastrophic, even, to bring about this openness, this
vulnerability.
Fearful of the possible reasons, I led him to the sofa and sat him down.
Stepping back, pulling away from his clinging arm despite his unspoken
objection, I stood in front of him and studied his face.
Oh, god. If he keeps looking at me with those wide green eyes, filled with...
What the hell was that expression anyway? Had I not known better, I'd
have identified it as love, desperate need and desire.
His heavy lashes fell for a beat and he swallowed heavily.
Fuck the dog. How did one deal with a needy Krycek, showing all of the
signs of lovesickness? Did I really want to open myself to this?
Could I not?
"Um," I searched for words. Finally, I settled back on an old standby.
"How about a drink, Alex?"
He nodded.
Seemed that he was incapable of speech. This could be a problem.
"Vodka?" I asked.
Another nod.
Why did I, a beer drinker, have Vodka in the house? Stoli, for christ's
sake. I decided not to examine that particular question too closely—just
as I hadn't when I'd bought the damned stuff—and carefully—hopefully?—stored it in my freezer. As all dedicated Vodka drinkers do.
Shit.
I headed into the kitchen.
He almost followed—I saw his aborted move to rise.
"I'll be right back," I reassured him.
"Promise?" he asked.
I inclined my head affirmatively—unable to speak in the face of his sudden
fear.
Not knowing why I hurried, I efficiently poured a shot of the Stoli, grabbed
a beer for myself, and then walked back to join him.
Settling at the other end of the couch, I handed over his drink and took a
deep swallow from my beer. When I looked at him, my heart stuttered. He
was watching me. Closely. Fascinated, it seemed, by my throat.
Oh, man.
//He's staring at me!//
What now? I couldn't quite bring myself to open the conversation that so
obviously loomed, so I took refuge in my drink.
Stoli!
That had to be a good sign—that he would happen to have my favorite
drink on hand.
Didn't it?
"Alex," he finally said softly. "Won't you tell me what's wrong?"
Wrong?
Wrong?
Well, shit—didn't he have a clue by now? I wanted him. I needed him.
And, I was scared of my feelings—my lack of control.
I opened my mouth to answer—having absolutely no idea what I'd say—and
found that I had no words to explain. I stared at him helplessly for a
moment, then, gathering my resolve, I moved closer to him.
He didn't complain... or stiffen against me... or withdraw. He just sat
there and accepted my closeness.
Sighing, I leaned closer. Almost passed out cold when he put one arm around
my shoulders, pulling me up against his warmth.
"Tell me," he murmured.
Good old Mulder—never give up—investigate the X-File of my... odd
behavior. Of course, how could he not? The was Mulder, after all.
"I, ah... I'm not sure, Mulder. It's just that—" Stuttering to a halt, I
drained my drink and actually fidgeted with the glass. Imagine that—me
fidgeting. Hell's bells.
"Just that what?"
"Um, well... As I said, I needed to see you—be sure you were okay."
"Mmmhmm. What else?"
What else?!
Hadn't he figured it out by now? It wasn't as if I'd been exactly subtle.
"Want you," I finally mumbled. "Always have. And now... now I can't seem
to control it." I raised my head and met his eyes. "What he hell is my
problem, Mulder? This isn't new—I've always wanted you. Why can't I...
hide it any longer?" Pleadingly, I gazed at him.
//Please, Mulder, please help me//
"I don't know, Alex," I said, wishing that I had an answer for him. "Has
anything particularly notable happened to you lately? Aside from the
obvious, of course."
Lowering his eyes—where the fuck did he get off having those lashes,
anyway?—he frowned and hesitated.
So... there was something. Now, if he'd just tell me. Explain. Confide.
Face whatever it was.
"Alex?" I encouraged.
After several false starts, he clenched his fingers in my shirtfront and
buried his face in my neck, taking a deep breath. I was so distracted by
the way he pressed his body against mine I almost didn't hear his quiet
words. "I had a couple of friends—not involved in all this, ya know?"
I nodded—controlling my knee-jerk response to the concept of Krycek having
friends—and kept silent.
"They, uh, they were attracted to each other but they never did anything
about it... Not that Dorian didn't try." He paused for a moment and smiled
wistfully. "Klaus, though, he was scared, I guess. Anyway, one of them died
today. Violently."
"And...?" I prompted—just like a good little psychologist.
"Well, they had a very similar relationship to ours—or, at least, one of
them acted as if he hated the other... Klaus—the hater—called me to
tell me the news about Dorian. He was so... so sad. He didn't actually say
so, but I could tell he regretted never having acted on his attraction to
Dorian." Alex sighed and shrugged. "After I got off the phone, well, I
thought about the way I felt when you were missing, having this chance to
tell you how I felt... I just had to come over, Mulder."
I could understand that—almost. Still...
"You said that you want me. What do you mean by that?" I asked, gingerly
feeling my way through this morass. "You want to fuck me? Once... twice...
what?"
He pulled away and met my eyes. "It's more... much more." A tide of red
crept up his face. "I'm in love with you. Don't want to 'fuck' you. Want
to make love. With you. More than once. Forever, actually."
My, my, my. That certainly answered that. Much to my surprise, it sounded
like a damn fine idea to me.
I was flattered. I was intrigued.
I was very much afraid that I returned his feelings.
"Obviously, this is... a shock, but—I'd like to explore the possibilities—extreme as they may be, Alex. I think I may... Shit, I don't know how
I feel." I said slowly. "I just know that I want you. Can we start there
and see what happens?"
//He wants me... wants me!//
Oh. My. God.
Not that I believe in any all-powerful deity anymore after all I've seen and
done, mind you—but this, if anything ever could—just might restore my
faith.
"So... what do we do now?"
He smiled and leaned towards me. "Well, a kiss seems like a good place to
start, don't you think?"
My voice deserted me again, so I nodded. Heart pounding, I watched his face
move closer and closer.
Jesus, the man could kiss. What started out as a tentative experimental
kind of a thing quickly heated up. I couldn't get enough. Moaning, I
plastered myself against him, opening my mouth to his voracious tongue.
He took full advantage, all traces of hesitation gone. Explored my oral
cavity thoroughly. I wondered just how he'd gained this heretofore-unknown
talent. Decided I didn't care at the moment and simply enjoyed.
Panting, he tore his lips away. "Bedroom?" He suggested breathlessly.
"Uh." Dazedly, I met his eyes and, what I saw there almost did me in. It
was one thing to hear him say he wanted me, actually to see that desire in
his eyes though, well, I was once again speechless. Silently I nodded,
unable to do more.
That was when he smiled.
At me.
For the first time in years—far too many years—I was warm. I felt safe.
I was terrified.
I mean, I'd held his undivided attention—you know—all that anger and
hatred he reserved just for our encounters. But to have him look at me this
way...
Like I said—I was fucking terrified.
"Alex?"
I jumped. I actually started in surprise when he said my name. Oh man, I
was in huge trouble this time. I had no defenses against him.
None.
Suddenly, leaving seemed like a damned fine idea. Running as far as I
possibly could—and, never, ever coming back.
Uh oh. //He's gonna run.// I could read his intention in the wary green
eyes, feel it in the sudden tension that sang through his still form.
"Oh, no, you don't," I said softly as I tightened my hold on him. "You're
not running out on me this time, Alex." Slowly, I rose to my feet, pulling
him up with me, and started backing towards the bedroom.
He followed along in an almost frighteningly subdued manner. Until his
eyes, which were again refusing to meet mine, fell upon the bed. He stopped
cold and took a deep breath.
Fascinated, I watched as he stared, a faint blush rising over his
cheekbones. "Um, Mulder..." he said quietly, still watching the bed as if
he expected the Alien Bounty Hunter to appear from under the pillows. "I
should tell you—"
"Tell me what?" I encouraged, glad that he was at least talking.
"I haven't ever actually—ah—done this," he stuttered, nodding in the
direction of the bed.
//Huh?//
"Haven't done what?" I managed to ask aloud.
"This."
Well, that sure as hell cleared things up. I frowned and studied his
averted face. "What, exactly, do you mean by 'this', Alex?" //C'mon, help
me out here.//
Ducking his head, he mumbled something. The only word I caught was 'man'.
Oh boy. He couldn't possibly be saying what I was very much afraid he was
saying.
Could he?
"You've never had sex with a man?" I asked incredulously. I'd always
thought he used all his sex appeal in his work. What better weapon for a
multiplicably duplicitous agent?
Dammit, the man was just too... too pretty to be wasted on women.
He swallowed heavily and his tongue flicked out to lick his lips. "No,
never with a man. Not with many women, for that matter."
Oookay.
So, what the hell does one do with a virginal assassin?
One proceeds cautiously.
Very cautiously.
I, being the scrupulously careful guy that I am, loosened my hold and tried
to step back.
Not, apparently, what he wanted me to do. His eyes widened and flew to meet
mine. "No, don't. I mean, don't stop now."
"Hush," I soothed. "I'm not stopping, Alex. Just regrouping."
"Oh." He relaxed marginally and lowered his lashes again. "So, have you—"
he waved at the bed again.
"Yeah, I have—went to school in England. Remember?"
His expression was an incredible combination of relief and murderous
jealousy. My rat wasn't too fond of the idea of my having had male lovers.
I wanted to smile at the thought—didn't, though.
I'm not that stupid.
I kissed him instead.
Now, that was a good idea. It only took him about two seconds to warm up.
And, let me tell you, a warm Alex Krycek is a very fine thing to hold in
one's arms.
Once he was pretty well distracted by the kiss, I let my hands wander.
Soothingly, I ran my fingers up his spine to his shoulders, then started a
path down each of his arms.
Whoa.
He didn't like that at all. In fact, he stiffened and pulled away from me.
It was the damned arm, of course. And, hell, I had no idea how to tackle
that particular problem. Finally, I drew a deep breath and bit the bullet.
"Alex, if we're going to be lovers, I'll see it sooner or later. Why not
get it out of the way?"
//Lovers//
Lovers. I know he said more than the one word—but I didn't hear anything
beyond it.
Wow.
By the time I recovered from the shock, finally becoming aware of his
expectant stare, he was starting to frown in concern.
"Alex?"
"What?" I just couldn't for the life of me recall what he'd asked.
He plucked at the sleeve of my shirt.
Oh.
Shit.
I was gonna have to let him see it—the hideous thing that had once been my
arm. Funny, I hadn't even considered that possibility when I'd come over
here, despite what I'd hoped for.
"Alex?" He asked again.
Closing my eyes, I nodded. "Go ahead, Mulder."
Very carefully—damn, he was handling me as if I were made of the finest
crystal—he removed the shirt. It took every ounce the of self-control I'd
gained over the years to stand still while he figured out the straps and
buckles of that awful prosthetic and removed it from me. Dimly, I felt him
shift to place it on the dresser.
I was shaking. I knew he could see it. Hell, he couldn't possibly miss the
tremors quaking through me. God, how embarrassing. How fucking
humiliating.
Have I mentioned how pathetic I am?
He stepped away just a fraction and I almost panicked. I thought he was
leaving, actually. It made perfect sense to me. After all, I'd seen my arm—I knew how ugly it was. Is. Whatever. Hell, I'd have run a mile if a
lover of mine revealed such a disfigurement.
Now there's a good one—'a lover of mine'. Yeah, right. Let's be
perfectly honest here—in my line of work, lovers are simply not part of
the equation. Unless, of course, you really want to bury someone you
love, or be betrayed by them. Because the inevitable outcome is one or the
other and sometimes, both.
I knew. I'd seen it happen to far too many of my associates.
So, I'd always been very careful. A one night stand here, a quickie there—never, ever twice with the same woman. Go ahead, call me paranoid. I don't
mind. Really, I don't.
I'm still alive, aren't I?
And, yet, for all that, here I was in Mulder's bedroom, and I'd just told
him that I loved him. That I wanted to make love with him. Having stripped
myself naked, at least metaphorically, I chose to ignore all of the reasons
this was not a good idea.
So, anyway, enough with the introspection, right?
He didn't leave. Amazingly, neither did I. When he finally pulled me back
into his arms, I realized that he'd taken off his shirt, too.
"Are you okay?" he murmured into one of my ears.
//Hell no!//
I didn't say that, of course. Oh no. I nodded affirmatively.
That's one of the first things you learn in spy school. How to lie. Said
lying should, theoretically speaking, be believable, but, hey, I was just
glad that I'd managed to respond at all. Not bad: I was being metaphorical
and theoretical at the same time.
"Then, would you look at me, please?"
That was easier said than done. Took three tries, but I finally managed it.
Opened my eyes and gazed up into his.
He still wanted me. It was still right there, that desire, all too evident
in his expression, along with concern and sorrow.
No pity, though.
It was okay, I realized, suddenly and completely. We would do this thing—make love—Mulder and I and, he'd take care of me.
How weird is that?
His guarded look just about broke my heart. God, it was a sin against
nature that he'd been disfigured. Still, he was Alex—my Alex... My
rat. No missing limb, no disfigurement, could negate the man's innate
beauty. It occurred to me then that he might not ever have let anyone see
his arm under these circumstances, in fact, judging by his reactions so far,
it was entirely possible that he'd not been intimate with anyone since the
debacle in Siberia.
I was damned confused by the whole thing. What on earth had happened to
Krycek? More importantly, who the hell was this guy? He looked like
Krycek, sounded like Krycek, felt like Krycek, but... he in no way, shape
or form acted like any Krycek I'd ever seen.
Not that I'm complaining, mind you. Nope, I'd never complain about this.
Well, okay, maybe there was a time I'd have thrown him out of the window for
daring to touch me, but, no more.
I liked this new Krycek. This Alex. I liked him a lot.
Then, he smiled this secret smile and relaxed against me.
For the longest time, we just stood there, clinging to each other. I ran my
hands over his back and shoulders, carefully avoiding his stump.
Tentatively, he started to touch me as well. I shivered under the heat of
his hand, arching to encourage his exploration, and he seemed to like that.
He started making the most interesting noise. It was almost a purr.
I wondered what that voice would sound like screaming my name in passion,
and, suddenly, getting horizontal took on paramount importance. I wanted to
feel more of him, taste more of him. Hell, I just wanted him.
It was a little awkward, but I managed to shuffle us to the bed without
anyone actually falling on his ass. Once I had him reclining on the
mattress, he was so damned fascinated with the mirrored canopy he didn't
even notice that I was removing his boots and jeans.
He was actually pretty darn cute, to tell you the truth. You'd be amazed at
just how huge his eyes can get when he's caught by surprise. By the time
I'd undressed and started to climb into the bed with him, he'd recovered
somewhat from the shock of finding a mirror over it.
Then the unmistakable waves of the waterbed mattress seemed to register.
And, incredibly, he laughed.
Well, okay, I'll be completely candid—he giggled.
"Mulder," giggle, "I can't believe you have a," snort. "A waterbed." Weakly
he waved upwards, "With a... a mirror!" Gales of laughter.
I grinned, inordinately pleased that my sleeping accommodations amused him
and damned glad that I'd replaced the thing after the great flood. I'd very
seriously considered buying a normal bed after the last mattress sprang a
leak, changed my mind at the last minute. Maybe I'd known...
Eventually, his hilarity faded. I helped the process along by lying next to
him and pressing my length along his left side. I figured that was best—left his right side free for whatever he might want to do. He didn't even
flinch away when his stump touched me—or, when I touched it—whichever
the case may have been.
I took that as a good sign.
Well, that had relaxed me. I can't even tell you the last time I laughed—really laughed. Finally I got myself under control—and, I'll tell you, it
wasn't easy. I mean, really—Mr. I-sleep-on-the-sofa with this... this
decadent bedroom set?
Obviously, I still had a lot to learn about Mulder.
Then, he touched me. Started running his fingers across my chest, tracing
an aimless pattern from scar to scar. Got my attention in a big fucking
hurry. He touched me with such care. I hadn't expected that. Hell, I'd been
in prisons and had seen more than enough to convince me that sex between men
was always of the rough variety. And fast. No petting or kissing or any of
that shit—just fucking and/or sucking.
Which, I suppose, isn't all that different from what I'd always done with
women It was just much more frightening—to trust a man—any man—enough to get naked with him and let him touch me.
And when I finally gathered my courage and took the big step, I find out
that I hadn't known a damn thing about it. Everything he did was
completely outside of my experience.
He kept on touching me. Stroking me from hairline to knees. Avoiding the
one place I was panting to feel his hand. And, he kept smiling. Every time
I made a sound, a gasp or moan, he looked at me as if I were the cleverest
man on Earth.
When his hand crept up the inside of one thigh, I held my breath in
anticipation. Finally... But no—the bastard skipped right past my need
and skated up my hip to start a series of ever-narrowing circles around my
navel.
"Mulder," I protested in an embarrassingly weak voice, "you're a tease!"
His grin could only be described as sly. "I'm not teasing, Alex."
"Then, what the hell do you call it?"
"I'm promising, Alex. Promising."
Oh man. Where the hell had he been hiding that particular tone of voice?
Damn, if he'd used that on me back in the days of Agent Alex, I'd have
folded and told him every secret I knew. Very happily, too.
"Oh, god," I groaned. "You're gonna kill me, aren't you?"
Lowering his head, he started nibbling at my earlobe. "Only in the very
best way, Alex."
I had no problem believing that. I'd have told him so, too, if only I'd
been capable of speech. The facility seemed to have deserted me again. You
see, he was doing the most incredible things to my neck. Nibbling, sucking,
licking... I was in heaven. And, his hand. What his clever fingers were
doing to my nipples—well, suffice it to say that I couldn't have spoken to
save my life at that moment.
I could, however, make plenty of noise. In fact, I became extremely vocal.
Distantly, it occurred that this was not a good thing. Guys in my line just
shouldn't make noise—lose control—be so completely uncaring that that
they were doing both.
I chose to ignore the thought. Well, I think I chose to ignore it—maybe
Mulder's ministrations affected that choice.
His hair brushed against my chin, and I vaguely wondered what he would do
next. As near as I can recall, that was the last coherent truly thought I
had for a very long time.
His lips latched on to my right nipple.
I gasped.
And, then he tried to kill me. I swear to god, he did. Gave it one hell of
a try.
I'm strong, though. Survived.
What did he do, you ask? Okay, he was sucking on my nipple, remember? And
I was really fine with that. Damn fine. He has a very talented mouth.
Trust me on this. I was so distracted, I didn't even notice his hand
creeping down my midline.
So, I was caught completely by surprise when he suddenly wrapped warm
fingers around my cock. I think I yelled something. Might have been his
name. Whatever it was, he liked it. Lifted his head and smiled at me.
This is the part where he tried to kill me: He was smiling, like I said.
And, I was lying there in a near state of shock. With a move that I only
recall in the vaguest way, he slipped down the bed and swallowed my erection
whole.
Now, do you see what I mean? My heart almost stopped right then and there.
The man was trying to kill me.
And I couldn't have possibly cared any less.
So, okay, obviously he's a virgin. A very experienced kind of a virgin,
sure, but a virgin all the same.
This was not going to be easy.
You just can't imagine how he looked. He'd been tossing his head around on
the pillow, and his hair was standing on end. Under any other
circumstances, I'd probably have been snickering at him. But, once my eyes
fell on his face... His color was high—not exactly a blush—more a flush
of arousal, and his lips were parted as he gasped for air. He has very
pretty lips, I'm sure you've noticed that. Well, double that when they're
all soft and relaxed—slightly puffy from being kissed... And his eyes—they were glittering at me.
I'd never seen anything quite like it.
I wanted to be inside of him so badly that I felt an actual physical ache at
the thought. Yeah, I know... Virgin. Damn. I had to let him set the pace—not hurt him or scare him. And, I had to face the truth; I, in my extreme
state of arousal, was not exactly the best candidate to give anyone a
wonderful first experience of being fucked.
So, I knelt at his side, breathing deeply, trying to reign myself in. It
was working, too.
"Mulder."
I made a mental note to gag him in future to have a hope of maintaining
anything resembling control with him.
I met his eyes and swallowed heavily. He was still glittering. Only now
his eyes were fully open and directed unerringly on mine.
If this guy ever did decide to use this side of himself in his work, he'd be
emperor of the damn planet inside of a year.
"I want you," he said simply.
Leaning forward, I braced my hands on either side of his body. "I'm right
here, Alex. Not going anywhere."
He shook his head and smiled at me. "No." I swear his voice dropped an
octave. "Want you to fuck me. Now."
I'm not sure, but I think I may have had a heart attack at that moment. I
know my heart stopped. That constitutes a heart attack, doesn't it?
I froze for several beats, staring down at him.
He just lay there, glittering and smiling.
It should have been embarrassing. Really, it should have. But, somehow,
Mulder managed to keep the process of preparing me for him from being
anything other than... Well, think about it. You'd think having a guy
sticking his fingers in your asshole would be a little, um, uncomfortable,
shall we say? I'm here to tell you that, with Mulder at least, that is
definitely not the case.
Shit, by the time he decided I was ready, I'd have happily gotten down on my
knees and begged him to fuck me.
And, in fact, I was seriously considering doing just that. He seemed to
read my intent in my expression, though. He rose to his knees and grabbed a
pillow, placing it under my hips. His hands were resting on my thighs,
thumbs gently stroking the sensitive skin.
"Get me ready, Alex."
I swallowed and blinked. "Re—ready?" I stammered. "How?"
I know, you're probably laughing at me but, he didn't. No, he just smiled
and handed me the lube.
Oh.
Okay, I got the picture. I held the tube of lubricant in my hand and stared
at it. Then I looked back up at him. "Um, Mulder," I handed the lube back
to him. "One hand, remember?"
"Oh shit," he looked stricken that he'd not taken this into account. "'M
sorry. I'll ah, just..." Fumbling, in the cutest way possible, he managed
to squeeze a generous amount of the thick gel onto my hand.
And I was so taken with this side of him, this man, red-faced with need and
embarrassment, that I forgot to be uncomfortable with my first experience of
touching another man's cock.
It was damned fascinating. Familiar, yet not. Carefully, I spread the
slick over him, watching his face closely, filing away every expression for
future contemplation.
"Stop."
I pulled my hand away as if burned. He'd sounded pained. Agonized, even.
"What?" I asked, worried—afraid I'd somehow hurt him.
"We'll never make it to the main event if you keep doing that."
Simple words. Innocuous words.
They took my breath away. Not so much the words themselves, but the tone in
which he delivered them. Breathless and needy and... Damn! He really did
want me.
So, I was ready. He was ready.
Simple enough, right?
Sure. In your dreams. He lay there, perfectly relaxed, still glittering at
me. And I was so fucking scared. Afraid I'd hurt him, or disappoint him.
"Mulder," he murmured, reaching up to me. "C'mon. Let's go."
I nodded. What else could I do? That husky voice, the one that could drive
me crazy at the best of times, was now roughened with passion. Did I say it
would be a year before he'd be running the planet? Make that a month.
Lifting his legs over my shoulders, I leaned forward and put the head of my
cock against his entrance. And I pushed. Just a little bit. Couldn't
resist. Just one slight thrust of my hips.
He let out a gasp and I froze. "Alex? You okay?"
"No... yes... Christ, Mulder, if you stop now, I'll get my gun and..."
Well, that was a first. Never had a lover threaten to shoot me in bed.
Ever so carefully, I started to work my way inside of him. Watching all the
while for any signs of discomfort on his part. He closed his eyes,
concentrating on the sensations so new to him. That adorable little
v-shaped wrinkle appeared between his eyebrows, but I saw no indication of
pain. Just intense concentration.
Once I was fully encased in his tightness, I paused again, waiting for him
to adjust to my presence. His lashes fluttered, and I could see his eyes
flicking back and forth under the lids. Licking his lips, he rolled his
head on the pillow as his respiration rate increased.
Tentatively, I pulled out partway and then pushed back into him.
He groaned and opened his eyes. "More," he demanded breathlessly. "Do it,
Mulder... I need to feel you."
"Easy, babe. I don't want to hurt you."
He growled at me. That low rumble went straight to my cock. Jesus, how
could his voice affect me so deeply?
"Now, Mulder." He lowered his legs to wrap them around my waist and shifted
beneath me impatiently. "Dammit, Mulder, fuck me."
I wanted nothing more that to slam in and out of him with all the force at
my disposal. But, I controlled myself. Smoothly, slowly, I started
thrusting, pulling out a bit further with each stroke.
"Oh, god," he groaned. "This is... so good. So fucking good."
I grinned. Adjusted my angle and let my cockhead brush across his prostate.
And, man oh man, he loved it. Yelling in shocked pleasure, he pushed his
hips up towards mine. "Again. Do that again," he demanded.
It all starts to get jumbled after that. I remember bits and pieces. The
way he pulled me down to kiss me. The way he looked at me, as if I was the
only other person in his world. The way he kept pulling me into him with
those strong legs. The desperate hold he had on the back on my neck.
And, most thrilling of all, the sounds he made. My name, over and over in
that deep husky voice. The sighs, the moans, the pleading note that begged
me for more, more, more.
I felt my orgasm gathering at the base of my spine, sending jolts of
electricity throughout my body. Knew I wouldn't last much longer. I
reached down with one hand and started stroking his erection, matching the
rhythm to that of my cock.
Oh, he liked that.
He loved it, in fact.
Threw back his head and encouraged me with unintelligible sounds.
"Alex," I stopped moving, waiting for him to look at me. Once he did, I
tightened my hold on his cock. "Come now, Alex. I want to see you, hear
your pleasure. Give it to me."
How the hell could he talk at a time like this? And in complete sentences
yet. Obviously, I was doing something wrong here. I pushed up toward him,
not in the least concerned by my open begging.
"Mulder. Oh, god, Mulder... Please. Don't stop, damn you. Move!"
And, he did. Oh, how he did. Between his cock in my ass and his hand on my
cock, I didn't stand a chance. I lasted—oh, maybe four or five more
seconds. Then... Damn! Fireworks. Bells and whistles. Every cliche
you've ever read about orgasm—they're all true. When you're with the
right person, that is.
I came so goddamn hard I felt my semen splatter against my own face, some
even landing in my hair.
That seemed to do the trick for him. In spades. He thrust once, twice more
and then joined me in ecstasy. Kept saying my name over and over.
Then, he gazed into my eyes fiercely and grinned. "Love you. God," pant,
pant, "I love you, Alex."
Oh my god—he'd said it! Looked like he meant it, too. Now, this is kind
of embarrassing, and I wouldn't tell just anyone—but, hey, we're friends,
right? I passed out. Cold. Complete and total overload of my senses.
He scared me for a moment. Thought I'd killed him. Once I reassured myself
that he was still breathing, I relaxed with a satisfied smile. I was damned
proud of myself.
Reluctantly, I withdrew from him and climbed out of bed. Hurrying into the
bathroom, I quickly cleaned myself up and went back, damp washcloth and dry
towel in hand.
He sighed and stretched languidly under my ministrations. Slowly, his eyes
opened and he smiled. I finished wiping him down and dried him lovingly.
Throughout the process, he seemed to come back to himself in a gradual way.
When I tossed the used linens aside, he sighed and shifted.
"Should I go now?" he asked hesitantly.
"No! Absolutely not. We're not finished yet." I lay down beside him and
pulled him close. "Sleep, Alex. And, when we wake up..."
"But I—"
"But nothing," I said firmly. Well, I meant it to sound firm. The huge
yawn that took me by surprise probably negated the effect. "I want you to
stay. Please say you will."
"You're sure?" God, the hope in his voice.
"Yes, I am. You're not going anywhere in the foreseeable future. Now sleep,
Alex. Let's just sleep."
"Tomorrow I have to make arrangements to go to England, Mulder," he said
quietly. "Won't be gone long—but, I have to go to Dorian's funeral."
I made an instant decision. "I'll go with you—if you want me to, that
is."
He stilled, then lifted his head to stare at me. "Really? You'd do that?"
I kissed him. Couldn't resist.
"Yeah. I want to be there for you—you shouldn't face that alone."
Uh oh. For a minute there, I thought he was gonna cry. Luckily, he
controlled himself and settled on a slightly tremulous smile.
"Coming here was the smartest thing I've ever done, I think," he said
huskily. "I love you, you know."
"Yeah, I know." And, I did. I believed him. "I love you, too, Alex.
Thank you for making me realize how I feel."
He curled up against me, burying his face against my shoulder and wrapped
his arm across my waist. I'm pretty sure I felt a tear or two dampen my
skin. But, I could understand that—after all, I was pretty damn close to
tears myself.
I kissed his hair and sighed contentedly. I didn't know where we were
headed with this relationship—the perils of this becoming an ongoing
affair were daunting to say the least but, Alex was worth any danger that
might threaten.
His breathing gradually evened out and his body relaxed into sleep. I held
him for the longest time, just enjoying the feel of him against me.
While he slept, I was making plans for our trip to England. There were so
many things I wanted to show him. Share with him.
Still plotting, I fell asleep myself.
I don't know for sure, but I think I smiled all night.
Wouldn't you have?
End
The Brokenhearted Part I
Pathetic
I was pathetic.
For now...
